Her Kelly
by madame.alexandra
Summary: Emily Fornell might mean as much to Gibbs as she did to her mother, and to Fornell. Tag to the most recent episode, 'Check' and FULL of spoilers, so be warned. ANGST.


_a/n: This isn't going to make a ton of sense unless you've read my story 'Behind Blue Eyes,' but a brief background: in that story, Emily Fornell gets bone marrow from Gibbs, her biological father, because she suffers from Leukemia. _

_Tag to season 12's 'Check.' I think we all knew I was going to write something on this episode - MAJOR SPOILERS._

* * *

He debated, for a very long, agonizing, and bourbon-filled evening, whether or not he would attend the funeral. He didn't know if it was his place. He felt guilty. He didn't think Tobias would want him there. He didn't know if Emily would think it hurtful if he didn't.

He didn't know, and he debated, and when he decided – he supposed it was fitting, in a sick, parallel way, that he arrived late to the burial site of his ex-wife, just as he'd arrived late – so many years ago – to the burial site of Kate Todd, when she, too, had been killed by a sniper on a rooftop.

He heard none of the ceremony; he heard no speeches, no memorandum, no eulogies; he didn't know what kind of service she'd had – he saw her mother look at him darkly, with confusion; he saw several people he'd known, he remembered, from their marriage, who all seemed to glance at him as if he were a foreign object, wondering why, unaware that he'd been the one who held her when she died.

He took a seat in the back, as mourners filed past her grave, touched her casket or laid a rose, and he sat stiffly, watching. Fornell shook hands with the pastor – or priest, Gibbs didn't know his orientation – and Emily sat in the front row, her arms wrapped around herself, her head bowed low.

She was fourteen years old. She'd sat in his kitchen, last year, begging him to keep her over night, trying not to hope against all hope that her parents really did get back together, like some movie fantasy ending.

She'd been through so much: blonde hair and red hair, divorces and needles; so much.

And then – this.

Gibbs stared at the back of her head, and he felt like choking on guilt; felt like burying himself for not realizing, for not questioning Diane's' phone call, for not shoving her head down – for not taking the bullet.

"Em," Fornell started.

He stopped, though. He'd spotted Gibbs.

Emily looked up slowly, and when she saw her father distracted, she turned, and she saw Gibbs.

She lifted her hand in an automatic, small wife – out of habit, a smile touched her face, and then she seemed stricken with memory, she seemed to realize where she was, and she turned away sharply, and stood up, and she bowed her head.

She spoke to Fornell, and he looked at Gibbs again – and he looked reluctant, and Gibbs didn't blame him: with Diane gone, they were the last two keepers of a secret that would always be a wedge between them, and with Diane gone, it seemed more prominent, somehow.

"Emily," Fornell had said, a little louder.

But she yanked her arm away, and then she was approaching Gibbs.

Her young face was pale, her eyes were red – she made no effort to hide her tears, or to pretend she hadn't been crying. She looked lovely, in her funeral clothes – as lovely and innocent as a child should look, but she looked sad, infinitely sadder than Gibbs had ever seen her.

"Uncle Jethro," she said softly.

She stood in front of him, holding on to a chair next to her.

She swallowed hard.

"You were late to her funeral," she said.

He tried to give her a small smile, but he couldn't.

"Sorry, Em," he said – honestly; hoarsely.

She compressed her lips, and they shook violently. She shook her head a little, and then she lunged forward, and she put her arms around him, seeking a hug. He gave her one, cautiously, but tightly.

"I'm sorry, Em," he said again – but it wasn't just empathy, this time, it was real apology –

_I'm sorry I couldn't save your mother. I'm sorry she's dead because of me._

He thought –

_They may as well sign their death certificates, when they marry me._

Emily leaned back, and she chewed on her lips – they were chapped and red; worried lips.

"It didn't hurt her, did it?" she asked quietly, desperately. "She just – she didn't suffer?"

He looked at her a long moment, and then shook his head.

"No," he promised quietly.

Emily swallowed again.

"Please," she said in a small voice. "You're the only one," she started. She stopped, and met his eyes. "What am I supposed to do?" she asked. "Can you…can you tell me how to get over it?"

He ran his hand over her hair, and over her shoulders, squeezing tightly. He knew she was asking because she knew about Shannon and Kelly; she thought he was the only one who could tell her what to do, how to deal with it – but he couldn't, and he didn't know what to say, so instead of telling her that he'd never gotten over it, and Diane had known that, and she'd had her heart broken because of it, instead of that, he said something – he'd heard another woman say, a stronger woman –

"You don't get over it," he said quietly. "You just get through."

Ziva David's words seemed fitting, and Emily nodded shakily, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks.

"I need you," she said hoarsely. She licked her lips, and then glanced at her father. "I don't know what kind of deal the three of you made," she said – and she sounded angry, in the way a grieved teenager could, "but I need you. He's my dad," she said, "but I need you to be around, now."

Gibbs squeezed her shoulder again, and looked up at Fornell – his old friend met his eyes hard, and gave a small nod, as if he knew what Em had said; as if he agreed that – whatever they had said in hospital corridors years ago, it didn't matter; Emily didn't need to lose people.

Gibbs swallowed, and he looked back at Emily.

"Your mom," he said, looking her straight in the eye, "never loved anyone more than she loved you," he swore.

Emily smiled at him – a sad, watery smile, but a smile; and Gibbs leaned forward, and kissed her gently on the forehead, closing his eyes.

"I know," Emily said hoarsely.

And Gibbs thought –

_If I was her Shannon, you were her Kelly._

* * *

_all i could think of during this episode was Emily._  
_so sad._

_alexandra_  
_story #237_


End file.
